Caught in a Roundabout
by wondergirlinwonderland
Summary: "I know we're two of a kind / I know we'll get through the bump and the grind / and how I don't care if / we build it up just to tear it down" (KaiJou) They're stuck in a cycle of breaking up and making up and yeah, it's more than a little messed up.


**Title** : Caught in a Roundabout

 **Pairing:** Puppyshipping (KaiJou)

 **Rating:** M

 **Words:** 800

 **Author's Notes:** (Rated for language and basically this is filled with mutual abuse) [Slight inspiration from Kim Sozzi's "Break Up"] I wanted to write something on the darker side of this relationship because I try to write about their dislike turning to passion, to mutual respect, to friendship, to a healthy relationship…but I know there's a chance with these two that it wouldn't turn into anything really and just cause their relationship a lot of awful problems. So, this is darker than what I usually write but I needed something to get my juices flowing because I've been in a rut. More on that in the ending note.

* * *

It's fucked up. What's _it_ , exactly? Probably just about every aspect of their relationship, and their relationship as a whole.

Everyone had a feeling it would be. How could those two manage a real relationship? They were too alike and too different – one as hot tempered and passionate as fire itself and the other as cold and calculated as ice. One lost his self-control at the drop of a hat and the other one would never let himself lose it.

Their similarities were as much a concern as their differences. Both too stubborn to give in, too sure of themselves, too dedicated to something else and someone else that how could they even carve out the time to make it work?

But they insisted they knew what they were doing and it wasn't anyone else's business and they could handle themselves and each other just fine. The questions dwindled down before the concern did but they knew how to put up that front that things were going great despite every minor quirk and mistake becoming a full-blown fight.

Doors slammed, curses flew, and occasionally a fist or two would make contact with a stomach or a cheek. One time it even scared the blond how like his own father he seemed when a champagne bottle got thrown against the wall. They took turns kicking each other out and slamming the door behind them but they always lost track of whose turn it was to call it quits.

Their time apart could range from two weeks to fifteen minutes, however long it took for them to calm down and one of them to silently swallow their pride and roll on into the office or mansion or apartment or wherever it was this time and pretend everything was alright because neither of them were going to admit they were wrong and heaven knows they don't discuss their feelings. (That in and of itself was the cause of a few arguments because the brunet would rather shut down than open up and for someone who feels as strongly as the blond, it drove him nuts.)

They'd kiss or fuck or do whatever and they'd forgive without apologies or real forgiveness. They'd forget whatever had happened this time and seem to start anew, no regret for the physical bruises or emotional scars they were leaving on each other. They'd seem great, passionate and all over each other and the epitome of the couple too strong to let the minor things tear them apart. Things were alright but they really weren't alright at all, because nothing got solved and the issue would fester into the next one and they'd restart the cycle over and over.

It wasn't healthy, no. It was fucked up.

It was fucked up the way the icy blue glare made the other's heart speed up and adrenaline pump because he didn't know if he'd get slammed into the wall to be fucked or punched this day. It was fucked up how out of his way he'd go to see and how he was more than willing to participate in four nights of physical fights just for one night of sex.

It was fucked up how those honey brown eyes looked almost hazel when they were wet and it was the prettiest color the other had ever seen and he was sure he fell in lust every time the blond held the tears back. It was fucked up how he relished in that sadness and the rage that followed when he could tell the brunet was enjoying it.

But the feeling of pinning each other down and the taste of salty tears or coppery blood on each other's lips was their greatest form of foreplay and those times, the anger got let out on each other's bodies in the best ways and they simply refused to stop. Not even when they were clinging onto each other did they stop, pretending not to notice the way they needed each other or – god forbid – loved each other in their own messed up way.

It was fucked up that Kaiba had taken to rolling his eyes when Jou said it was over because he knew it really wasn't, and it was fucked up that Jou had taken to making bets with himself over how long it'd be until Kaiba changed his mind when he'd called it off.

It was fucked up that no matter how wrong they knew it was, they didn't want anyone else.

It was fucked up how they seemed to tear themselves down just to build themselves back up but at the same time, build it all up just to tear it back down again.

Yeah, it was fucked up. But they were both fucked up, so they didn't want to stop.

* * *

 **Author's Notes** : I have had such a busy few months and I am so sorry for the wait on everything. If you're reading my chaptered stories, I'm attempting to go back to them but it just seems like every time I finish an assignment, I have a new one to work on right after. But I needed to get some juices flowing so I wrote this drabble thingy that's full of run-on sentences so I hope you liked it. Please let me know and stay patient, my loves. I haven't forgotten you all.


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